As I composed this post, I realized how close the end is approaching, and I have mixed feelings; on one hand, I have been so fulfilled throughout this experience, and on the other hand, I am sad to say good-bye to this book and its characters that I love so much.

These chapters are such enjoyable reads. I love the depth of feelings expressed through Darcy’s and Elizabeth’s dialogue with one another, as well as the uncomfortable conversations she must have with Jane and her father, as she attempts to not only convince them of her revised feelings for Darcy, but she also begins to work on altering Mr. Bennet’s opinions of his future son-in-law.

I have a special guest visiting us for the final chapter and I am beyond thrilled to have her with us. I thank you for joining me and without further ado, I share with you two of my favorite chapters in the entire world of literature…

Chapter 58

Instead of receiving any such letter of excuse from his friend, as Elizabeth half expected Mr. Bingley to do, he was able to bring Darcy with him to Longbourn before many days had passed after Lady Catherine’s visit. The gentlemen arrived early; and, before Mrs. Bennet had time to tell him of their having seen his aunt, of which her daughter sat in momentary dread, Bingley, who wanted to be alone with Jane, proposed their all walking out. It was agreed to. Mrs. Bennet was not in the habit of walking; Mary could never spare time; but the remaining five set off together. Bingley and Jane, however, soon allowed the others to outstrip them. They lagged behind, while Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy were to entertain each other. Very little was said by either; Kitty was too much afraid of him to talk; Elizabeth was secretly forming a desperate resolution; and perhaps he might be doing the same.

They walked towards the Lucases, because Kitty wished to call upon Maria; and as Elizabeth saw no occasion for making it a general concern, when Kitty left them she went boldly on with him alone. Now was the moment for her resolution to be executed, and, while her courage was high, she immediately said:

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“Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express.”

“I am sorry, exceedingly sorry,” replied Darcy, in a tone of surprise and emotion, “that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Mrs. Gardiner was so little to be trusted.”

“You must not blame my aunt. Lydia’s thoughtlessness first betrayed to me that you had been concerned in the matter; and, of course, I could not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again, in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the sake of discovering them.”

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“If you will thank me,” he replied, “let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you.”

Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion added, “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”

Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances. The happiness which this reply produced, was such as he had probably never felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth been able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him; but, though she could not look, she could listen, and he told her of feelings, which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his affection every moment more valuable.

They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects. She soon learnt that they were indebted for their present good understanding to the efforts of his aunt, who did call on him in her return through London, and there relate her journey to Longbourn, its motive, and the substance of her conversation with Elizabeth; dwelling emphatically on every expression of the latter which, in her ladyship’s apprehension, peculiarly denoted her perverseness and assurance; in the belief that such a relation must assist her endeavours to obtain that promise from her nephew which she had refused to give. But, unluckily for her ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise.

“It taught me to hope,” said he, “as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain that, had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly.”

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Elizabeth coloured and laughed as she replied, “Yes, you know enough of my frankness to believe me capable of that. After abusing you so abominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all your relations.”

“What did you say of me, that I did not deserve? For, though your accusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, my behaviour to you at the time had merited the severest reproof. It was unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence.”

“We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that evening,” said Elizabeth. “The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, will be irreproachable; but since then, we have both, I hope, improved in civility.”

“I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. The recollection of what I then said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of it, is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me. Your reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: ‘had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.’ Those were your words. You know not, you can scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me;—though it was some time, I confess, before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice.”

“I was certainly very far from expecting them to make so strong an impression. I had not the smallest idea of their being ever felt in such a way.”

“I can easily believe it. You thought me then devoid of every proper feeling, I am sure you did. The turn of your countenance I shall never forget, as you said that I could not have addressed you in any possible way that would induce you to accept me.”

“Oh! do not repeat what I then said. These recollections will not do at all. I assure you that I have long been most heartily ashamed of it.”

Darcy mentioned his letter. “Did it,” said he, “did it soon make you think better of me? Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its contents?”

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She explained what its effect on her had been, and how gradually all her former prejudices had been removed.

“I knew,” said he, “that what I wrote must give you pain, but it was necessary. I hope you have destroyed the letter. There was one part especially, the opening of it, which I should dread your having the power of reading again. I can remember some expressions which might justly make you hate me.”

“The letter shall certainly be burnt, if you believe it essential to the preservation of my regard; but, though we have both reason to think my opinions not entirely unalterable, they are not, I hope, quite so easily changed as that implies.”

“When I wrote that letter,” replied Darcy, “I believed myself perfectly calm and cool, but I am since convinced that it was written in a dreadful bitterness of spirit.”

“The letter, perhaps, began in bitterness, but it did not end so. The adieu is charity itself. But think no more of the letter. The feelings of the person who wrote, and the person who received it, are now so widely different from what they were then, that every unpleasant circumstance attending it ought to be forgotten. You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”

“I cannot give you credit for any philosophy of the kind. Your retrospections must be so totally void of reproach, that the contentment arising from them is not of philosophy, but, what is much better, of innocence. But with me, it is not so. Painful recollections will intrude which cannot, which ought not, to be repelled. I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own.

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Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”

“Had you then persuaded yourself that I should?”

“Indeed I had. What will you think of my vanity? I believed you to be wishing, expecting my addresses.”

“My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure you. I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me wrong. How you must have hated me after that evening?”

“Hate you! I was angry perhaps at first, but my anger soon began to take a proper direction.”

“I am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me, when we met at Pemberley. You blamed me for coming?”

“No indeed; I felt nothing but surprise.”

“Your surprise could not be greater than mine in being noticed by you. My conscience told me that I deserved no extraordinary politeness, and I confess that I did not expect to receive more than my due.”

“My object then,” replied Darcy, “was to show you, by every civility in my power, that I was not so mean as to resent the past; and I hoped to obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you see that your reproofs had been attended to. How soon any other wishes introduced themselves I can hardly tell, but I believe in about half an hour after I had seen you.”

He then told her of Georgiana’s delight in her acquaintance, and of her disappointment at its sudden interruption; which naturally leading to the cause of that interruption, she soon learnt that his resolution of following her from Derbyshire in quest of her sister had been formed before he quitted the inn, and that his gravity and thoughtfulness there had arisen from no other struggles than what such a purpose must comprehend.

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She expressed her gratitude again, but it was too painful a subject to each, to be dwelt on farther.

After walking several miles in a leisurely manner, and too busy to know anything about it, they found at last, on examining their watches, that it was time to be at home.

“What could become of Mr. Bingley and Jane!” was a wonder which introduced the discussion of their affairs. Darcy was delighted with their engagement; his friend had given him the earliest information of it.

“I must ask whether you were surprised?” said Elizabeth.

“Not at all. When I went away, I felt that it would soon happen.”

“That is to say, you had given your permission. I guessed as much.” And though he exclaimed at the term, she found that it had been pretty much the case.

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“On the evening before my going to London,” said he, “I made a confession to him, which I believe I ought to have made long ago. I told him of all that had occurred to make my former interference in his affairs absurd and impertinent. His surprise was great. He had never had the slightest suspicion. I told him, moreover, that I believed myself mistaken in supposing, as I had done, that your sister was indifferent to him; and as I could easily perceive that his attachment to her was unabated, I felt no doubt of their happiness together.”

Elizabeth could not help smiling at his easy manner of directing his friend.

“Did you speak from your own observation,” said she, “when you told him that my sister loved him, or merely from my information last spring?”

“From the former. I had narrowly observed her during the two visits which I had lately made here; and I was convinced of her affection.”

“It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest. His diffidence had prevented his depending on his own judgment in so anxious a case, but his reliance on mine made every thing easy. I was obliged to confess one thing, which for a time, and not unjustly, offended him. I could not allow myself to conceal that your sister had been in town three months last winter, that I had known it, and purposely kept it from him. He was angry. But his anger, I am persuaded, lasted no longer than he remained in any doubt of your sister’s sentiments. He has heartily forgiven me now.”

Elizabeth longed to observe that Mr. Bingley had been a most delightful friend; so easily guided that his worth was invaluable; but she checked herself. She remembered that he had yet to learn to be laughed at, and it was rather too early to begin. In anticipating the happiness of Bingley, which of course was to be inferior only to his own, he continued the conversation till they reached the house. In the hall they parted.

Chapter 59

“My dear Lizzy, where can you have been walking to?” was a question which Elizabeth received from Jane as soon as she entered their room, and from all the others when they sat down to table. She had only to say in reply, that they had wandered about, till she was beyond her own knowledge. She coloured as she spoke; but neither that, nor anything else, awakened a suspicion of the truth.

The evening passed quietly, unmarked by anything extraordinary. The acknowledged lovers talked and laughed, the unacknowledged were silent. Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth; and Elizabeth, agitated and confused, rather knew that she was happy than felt herself to be so; for, besides the immediate embarrassment, there were other evils before her. She anticipated what would be felt in the family when her situation became known; she was aware that no one liked him but Jane; and even feared that with the others it was a dislike which not all his fortune and consequence might do away.

At night she opened her heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far from Miss Bennet’s general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here.

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“You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be!—engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible.”

“This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you; and I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are engaged.”

Jane looked at her doubtingly. “Oh, Lizzy! it cannot be. I know how much you dislike him.”

“You know nothing of the matter. That is all to be forgot. Perhaps I did not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever remember it myself.”

Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more seriously assured her of its truth.

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“Good Heaven! can it be really so! Yet now I must believe you,” cried Jane. “My dear, dear Lizzy, I would—I do congratulate you—but are you certain? forgive the question—are you quite certain that you can be happy with him?”

“There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already, that we are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?”

“Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more delight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you really love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy! do anything rather than marry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought to do?”

“Oh, yes! You will only think I feel more than I ought to do, when I tell you all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, I must confess that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am afraid you will be angry.”

“My dearest sister, now be serious. I want to talk very seriously. Let me know every thing that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell me how long you have loved him?”

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“It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. But I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds at Pemberley.”

Another entreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the desired effect; and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of attachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing further to wish.

“Now I am quite happy,” said she, “for you will be as happy as myself. I always had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you, I must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley’s friend and your husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all that I know of it to another, not to you.”

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Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwilling to mention Bingley; and the unsettled state of her own feelings had made her equally avoid the name of his friend. But now she would no longer conceal from her his share in Lydia’s marriage. All was acknowledged, and half the night spent in conversation.

“Good gracious!” cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the next morning, “if that disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with our dear Bingley! What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always coming here? I had no notion but he would go a-shooting, or something or other, and not disturb us with his company. What shall we do with him? Lizzy, you must walk out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley’s way.”

Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal; yet was really vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an epithet.

As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information; and he soon afterwards said aloud, “Mrs. Bennet, have you no more lanes hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again to-day?”

“I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty,” said Mrs. Bennet, “to walk to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has never seen the view.”

“It may do very well for the others,” replied Mr. Bingley; “but I am sure it will be too much for Kitty. Won’t it, Kitty?” Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently consented. As she went up stairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her, saying:

“I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be forced to have that disagreeable man all to yourself. But I hope you will not mind it: it is all for Jane’s sake, you know; and there is no occasion for talking to him, except just now and then. So, do not put yourself to inconvenience.”

During their walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet’s consent should be asked in the course of the evening. Elizabeth reserved to herself the application for her mother’s. She could not determine how her mother would take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether she were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to her sense; and she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear the first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her disapprobation.

In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, she saw Mr. Darcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it was extreme. She did not fear her father’s opposition, but he was going to be made unhappy; and that it should be through her means—that she, his favourite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should be filling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her—was a wretched reflection, and she sat in misery till Mr. Darcy appeared again, when, looking at him, she was a little relieved by his smile. In a few minutes he approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty; and, while pretending to admire her work said in a whisper, “Go to your father, he wants you in the library.” She was gone directly.

Her father was walking about the room, looking grave and anxious. “Lizzy,” said he, “what are you doing? Are you out of your senses, to be accepting this man? Have not you always hated him?”

Illustration by Brock

How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more reasonable, her expressions more moderate! It would have spared her from explanations and professions which it was exceedingly awkward to give; but they were now necessary, and she assured him, with some confusion, of her attachment to Mr. Darcy.

“Or, in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane. But will they make you happy?”

“Have you any other objection,” said Elizabeth, “than your belief of my indifference?”

“None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but this would be nothing if you really liked him.”

“I do, I do like him,” she replied, with tears in her eyes, “I love him. Indeed he has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do not know what he really is; then pray do not pain me by speaking of him in such terms.”

“Lizzy,” said her father, “I have given him my consent. He is the kind of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything, which he condescended to ask. I now give it to you, if you are resolved on having him. But let me advise you to think better of it. I know your disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband; unless you looked up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape discredit and misery. My child, let me not have the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are about.”

Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnest and solemn in her reply; and at length, by repeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the object of her choice, by explaining the gradual change which her estimation of him had undergone, relating her absolute certainty that his affection was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many months’ suspense, and enumerating with energy all his good qualities, she did conquer her father’s incredulity, and reconcile him to the match.

“Well, my dear,” said he, when she ceased speaking, “I have no more to say. If this be the case, he deserves you. I could not have parted with you, my Lizzy, to anyone less worthy.”

To complete the favourable impression, she then told him what Mr. Darcy had voluntarily done for Lydia. He heard her with astonishment.

“This is an evening of wonders, indeed! And so, Darcy did every thing; made up the match, gave the money, paid the fellow’s debts, and got him his commission! So much the better. It will save me a world of trouble and economy. Had it been your uncle’s doing, I must and would have paid him; but these violent young lovers carry every thing their own way. I shall offer to pay him to-morrow; he will rant and storm about his love for you, and there will be an end of the matter.”

He then recollected her embarrassment a few days before, on his reading Mr. Collins’s letter; and after laughing at her some time, allowed her at last to go—saying, as she quitted the room, “If any young men come for Mary or Kitty, send them in, for I am quite at leisure.”

Elizabeth’s mind was now relieved from a very heavy weight; and, after half an hour’s quiet reflection in her own room, she was able to join the others with tolerable composure. Every thing was too recent for gaiety, but the evening passed tranquilly away; there was no longer anything material to be dreaded, and the comfort of ease and familiarity would come in time.

When her mother went up to her dressing-room at night, she followed her, and made the important communication. Its effect was most extraordinary; for on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still, and unable to utter a syllable. Nor was it under many, many minutes that she could comprehend what she heard; though not in general backward to credit what was for the advantage of her family, or that came in the shape of a lover to any of them. She began at length to recover, to fidget about in her chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless herself.

“Good gracious! Lord bless me! only think! dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would have thought it! And is it really true? Oh! my sweetest Lizzy! how rich and how great you will be! What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages you will have! Jane’s is nothing to it—nothing at all. I am so pleased—so happy. Such a charming man!—so handsome! so tall!—Oh, my dear Lizzy! pray apologise for my having disliked him so much before. I hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Every thing that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, Lord! What will become of me. I shall go distracted.”

This was enough to prove that her approbation need not be doubted: and Elizabeth, rejoicing that such an effusion was heard only by herself, soon went away. But before she had been three minutes in her own room, her mother followed her.

“My dearest child,” she cried, “I can think of nothing else! Ten thousand a year, and very likely more! ‘Tis as good as a Lord! And a special licence. You must and shall be married by a special licence. But my dearest love, tell me what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond of, that I may have it to-morrow.”

This was a sad omen of what her mother’s behaviour to the gentleman himself might be; and Elizabeth found that, though in the certain possession of his warmest affection, and secure of her relations’ consent, there was still something to be wished for. But the morrow passed off much better than she expected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily stood in such awe of her intended son-in-law that she ventured not to speak to him, unless it was in her power to offer him any attention, or mark her deference for his opinion.

Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to get acquainted with him; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was rising every hour in his esteem.

“I admire all my three sons-in-law highly,” said he. “Wickham, perhaps, is my favourite; but I think I shall like your husband quite as well as Jane’s.”

The article that has influenced me the most when I reread these sections and think about the trajectory of Elizabeth’s feelings for Darcy is a JASNA article written by Elaine Bander is titled, Neither Sex, Money, nor Power: Why Elizabeth Finally Says “Yes!” Ms. Bander performed very close rereading of Pride & Prejudice and researched many other perspectives from other Austen scholars to craft an article that presents a theory about why Elizabeth eventually says yes to Darcy, as she describes in detail her very thorough notes and thoughts on specific text evidence throughout the story.

She argues against the popular beliefs that Darcy and Elizabeth have a love/hate relationship in the story or that Elizabeth feels a physical attraction to Darcy from the start of the story. She cites here:

Nor am I alone in reading the novel this way: other critics have observed that Elizabeth’s sexual tension in Darcy’s presence appears only after she decides rationally that Darcy is admirable and therefore loveable. Barbara Hardy, for example, argues that in Pride and Prejudice, “Love grows from gratitude, esteem and proximity” (48–49). David M. Shapard reiterates this view in The Annotated Pride and Prejudice, identifying Charlotte’s belief (that love begins with gratitude and vanity) with Austen’s own views (37 n.8, 507 n. 56) and glossing Elizabeth’s recognition that she respects and esteems Darcy with the observation: “This passage, in detailing the step by step development of Elizabeth’s feelings towards Darcy, reveals how precise Jane Austen is in presenting the emotional evolution of the heroine” (485 n. 29). (Bander, Persuasions, No. 34)

She goes on to state that:

As these critics recognize, Pride and Prejudice is not a narrative about a heroine who learns that she has long loved the hero. Jane Austen knew how to construct such a story, as she demonstrates in Emma: Emma Woodhouse loves Mr. Knightley long before her knowledge of her feelings darts through her with the speed of an arrow, and canny readers delight in spotting the clues.2 Throughout the novel, Emma reveals her love in her unconscious, heightened physical awareness of Mr. Knightley, culminating in the moment during the ball at the Crown when she admires his “tall, firm, upright figure” among the stooped, elderly men (Emma 352). Pride and Prejudice, however, offers no such clues.(Bander, Persuasions, No. 34)

Her article reiterates Leo Rockas’ view that:

She clearly experiences an immediate, visceral sexual interest in Wickham, and later she entertains warm, potentially romantic feelings for Colonel Fitzwilliam, but throughout most of the novel, Elizabeth is aware of Darcy only as an annoying distraction from these favorites. Even worse, she sometimes views him, like Mr. Collins, as an object of derision. (Bander, Persuasions, No. 34)

Her idea is that Elizabeth’s love for Darcy grows in a very different manner from the other couples in the story:

In the narrative that Austen has constructed, Elizabeth’s eventual change of heart results from neither sex, money, nor power, but rather from a long process of revision and self-examination. Of course, sex, money, and power are all powerful marriage motives for which Pride and Prejudice offers sufficeint examples.

Elizabeth’s love for Darcy, however, evolves not through instant erotic attraction, like Jane’s love for Bingley, nor as a calculating desire for wealth and power, like Charlotte’s choice of Mr. Collins, but, rather, through careful reflection. (Bander, Persuasions, No. 34)

What do you think about Bander’s assertions? Has Elizabeth’s love grown not from a powerful physical attraction, but from a slow-developing realization of who she truly is, as well as who Darcy truly is in essentials?

But then I reread the line below and I wonder what she means when she tells Darcy, “but my spirits might often lead me wrong?” How could her spirits have served her wrong in this situation?

“My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure you. I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me wrong. How you must have hated me after that evening?”

There was also this sentence below, from Chapter 57, that Bander believes demonstrates Elizabeth’s willingness to forget Darcy if he doesn’t show his regard for her.

If he is satisfied with only regretting me, when he might have obtained my affections and hand, I shall soon cease to regret him at all.” (Pride & Prejudice, Chapter 57.)

Bander asserts that at this point Elizabeth is “still ready to go either way: she is physically drawn to him and rationally prepared to love him, but should he fail to propose, she will forget about him, much as she had disciplined her feelings about Wickham and Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

Bander’s article describes how Elizabeth’s feelings of attraction have shifted from Wickham to Colonel Fitzwilliam as “Elizabeth misses obvious clues: Darcy repeatedly chooses to walk in her “favourite haunt” and alludes to her leaving Longbourn and staying at Rosings (204, 201); Colonel Fitzwilliam laughs at Darcy for his uncharacteristic “stupidity” in the ladies’ company (203) and reveals that Darcy has put off their departure more than once (205). Elizabeth, also showing unusual stupidity, cannot read this situation accurately because she has so thoroughly categorized Mr. Darcy as a non-suitor.”

It’s Darcy’s letter that changes everything for them and from this point on, Elizabeth begins to revise her feelings for Darcy. Bander describes it more as a rational thought process, but I still wonder if the head and the heart can always be in such true alignment. What do you think, my Just Jane 1813 readers? Why do you think Elizabeth finally says yes to Mr. Darcy’s proposal of marriage?

One paragraph in chapter 59, which contains my favorite words spoken by Mr. Bennet, describes his feelings about Elizabeth’s own future happiness:

I know your disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband; unless you looked up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape discredit and misery. My child, let me not have the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are about.”

Here he emphasizes the need for esteem and respect in marriage, which reinforces many of the points in Bander’s article. What do you think about his advice to Elizabeth about marriage?

To read more of Bander’s analysis of her close reading of this text, I believe her JASNA article is one not to be missed! These articles are very reader-friendly if you email them to your kindle too.

I look forward to reading your thoughts on this all too important question, as well as any of your thoughts about these two chapters!

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I like a lot of Mrs. Banders’ thoughts, but I agree with you Claudine, that Elizabeth both reason and heart were involved. And Mr. Bennet described it well. I think that Elizabeth realized, that she could respect Darcy and enjoy his intelligence. There wouldn’t be too many gentlemen, who would consider wife’s intelligence as an asset. 🙂

Great points, Kate. I think her heart was as engaged as her head and spending so much time with her father growing up led her to know a man of similar or greater intelligence would be a good choice for her as a husband.

Same as you, Claudine, I have such mixed feelings about this wonderful series of posts coming to an end! It’s lovely to get to the HEA but I’ll miss it so much! There’s nothing to be done, we’ll have to start reading P&P all over again 🙂

The articles and PoVs are fascinating, and so much can be read into the masterpiece that is P&P! Take the ‘spirits leading her wrong’ for example. I think she meant that she was naturally given to laughing and teasing, and it took her a very long time to realise that her teasing might have been interpreted so very differently by one who was falling in love with her.

The missed clues are such a delight too! How could she have missed Darcy’s meaning when he was talking about her staying at Rosings on her next visit? Why would Lady Catherine ask her to stay there, unless she was forced to? And Col Fitzwilliam’s jokes about the tongue-tied Darcy – adorable!!

Now, hand on heart, this might be JAFF speaking (and I didn’t read Bander’s article in full yet) but I find it hard to subscribe to the opinion that “Elizabeth’s love for Darcy, however, evolves not through instant erotic attraction…”. I think there was a fair amount of attraction at the Meryton assembly until Darcy snubbed her, and she was all the more disposed to shoot him down in flames after that because he had labelled her as not good enough for him. ‘Hell hath no fury’, so she spends the remainder of the novel persuading herself she despises him and hates him with a passion, until it becomes blindingly obvious that she has no reason to either despise or hate him anymore. And I don’t really believe her when she says that “If he is satisfied with only regretting me, when he might have obtained my affections and hand, I shall soon cease to regret him at all.” I think she doth protest too much here too, and is trying to persuade herself she won’t spend her life regretting her misjudgement and original refusal. In my opinion, it’s not a sign she could have gone either way. By that point she was deeply in love with him already. When exactly she fell in love is something we could still have lots of fun analysing and debating, but she must have been in love by the time she realised he was the one who in disposition and talents would most suit her. So thank goodness for Lady Cat and the second proposal that gave her the chance to say yes 😉

I loved Mr Bennet’s description of perfect compatibility and the ideal marriage! Such a shame he never got one for himself. BTW, I’ve always wondered what he meant when he said she could never be respectable, nor escape discredit if she couldn’t respect her partner in life. I suppose he was speaking of self-respect, surely he wasn’t worried she’d fall in love with someone else whom she *could* respect, and drift into the loose morals of high society ladies!

Thanks again for this delightful series and the wonderful analysis! We definitely still need her! What novel are you thinking of discussing next?

Joana, you said exactly what I was thinking. I do believe that Elizabeth felt an immediate attraction to Darcy at the Meryton Assembly and took umbrage upon hearing his insult. And who can blame her? Such thoughts, even if a lady is truly not handsome enough, should never be spoken in a crowd or in public. Lack of manners, my dear man! So Elizabeth’s defense is an attack…my husband’s philosophy: The best defense is a good offense. And then after Elizabeth helps to set the whole town against him, she must hold tight to her opinions. I don’t think she was one to quickly change her opinions. (And how like Darcy in that.) Of course, Wickham helps justify her opinion and that of the citizenry.

I don’t think Mr. Bennet was hinting that Elizabeth would look for a relationship elsewhere if she could not respect her husband. Does he have a relationship with someone else in not respecting his wife? Some books have set that premise in place. Elizabeth looks down on her sisters’ flirting and, in particular, Lydia’s elopement. So she does have some moral standards. Even in this day and age are we accepting of adultery? I hope we are not. We can accept separation and divorce but to stay in a marriage and act thusly, for me is just plain wrong. So I believe Mr. Bennet was not thinking that was a choice in the future for Elizabeth if she was to marry Darcy and not respect him, not look up to him. But Elizabeth, more than anyone else, has kept her feelings closely held. Jane, her best friend and confidante, has not a clue that Elizabeth’s feeling towards Mr. Darcy have changed.

Both Elizabeth and Darcy tell us that they were in the middle of it before they realized that they were in love. Elizabeth has been told by Charlotte that Mr. Darcy is in love with her. Definitely denial. She can’t really think he shows up on her “favorite” walkways just to spite her. Staring at her to find fault? There are so many clues but it is Elizabeth’s role to deny or misinterpret everything…and yet she is so intelligent? I wonder what she dreamed about at night…even from their first interaction.

Jane Austen does not speak in plain language about sexual tension but when she describes a person’s admiration of a fine figure, broad shoulders, handsome face, strong physique and/or sparkling eyes, it is not difficult to imagine that chemistry at work. In watching the 1995 film version so many of us want ODC to kiss…we want some relief from all that sexual tension throughout the story – you know we do. Andrew Davies missed that moment.

Oh dear. I can’t believe we are nearly at the end. I too love these chapters and watching this part of the series with Colin and Jennifer.
I totally agree with Joana about Elizabeth’s feelings for Darcy. I too think she was instantly attracted to him and that was why his words affected her so much. Also her saying that if he didn’t return she would soon cease to regret him ? Well she is obviously trying to tell herself that she wouldn’t care when she knows she will be devastated.
Her feelings were obvious really when she explained the truth about Wickham to Jane and said both he and Darcy couldn’t be good and in her opinion it was all Darcy.
I absolutely love this book so thank you so much for sharing both it and your thoughts and research Claudine. I look forward to the last chapter 📕💕

Hi Claudine, I’ve only just been made aware of this site – and what a fantastic post to find on my first visit! (Love the musical accompaniment!)

It’s a fascinating question. Bander’s points are interesting and certainly not uncommon. I went to a talk by Joanna Trollope a few years ago, just after she wrote her modern version of Austen’s Emma (https://en-gb.facebook.com/austenproject/). She spoke of Elizabeth Bennet as being very clear-sighted in her actions – and not at all in love. If my memory serves me right, I think Trollope’s words were, “she knew exactly what she was doing when she said yes.”

I am not sure I can agree with Bander on the point that Elizabeth only ever sees Darcy as a distraction though. Certainly her attraction to Wickham is more immediate, but then he (and indeed Colonel Fitzwilliam) flattered her incessantly – and we are shown very early on that she is not beyond a little vanity. That she is nettled by Darcy as she is not by any other character is, for me, the best indicator of her feelings for him, subconscious or otherwise.

That said, I do consider Elizabeth to be a far more practical character than any of her other sisters. Jane is openly concerned with marrying for affection; Lydia and Kitty for attention; and Mary for ecclesiastical transcendence, by all accounts. Elizabeth, though she refuses to marry the ‘ridiculous’ Mr Collins and ‘officious’ Mr Darcy, never goes so far as to claim love is essential for marriage.

I want to believe that she had a fledgling affection for Darcy as soon as she allowed herself to – but I cannot reasonably think that Austen didn’t mean us to think that Darcy’s probity, wealth and power to keep Wickham in line were not hugely influencing factors.

Welcome, Jessie. I am so glad you found me at Just Jane 1813. I hope you continue to join our conversations!

I loved the points you shared about Elizabeth. She certainly is, IMO, the most fascinating of all of Austen’s heroines and can not be easily placed in one “box” or another, which I think is a big part of her appeal to Darcy.

I, too, believe that she has felt more nettled by him because she does prefer to have his regard. After all, she is considered by some as the “Jewel of Hertfordshire.” What a blow to have this arrogant man insult her upon first sight!

I love how you describe the way each Bennet sister. Such great points again. However, Elizabeth does confess to Jane that “I am determined that only the deepest love will induce me into matrimony. So, I shall end an old maid, and teach your ten children to embroider cushions and play their instruments very ill.” Do you suppose she was teasing?

I think Austen too wants us to remember Darcy’s probity, wealth, and power as partial inducements for Elizabeth. Not the deciding factors, but I think it adds to a sense of security and trust when a man is willing to protect us and keep us safe.

Oh, try and keep me away! I’m always up for a good natter about Austen! (Hope you don’t mind me adding one more comment before I hit the hay…)

Your point above, that Elizabeth says she’s determined only to marry for the deepest love, makes your original question, why did she say yes, even more fascinating to me – and it’s all the BBC’s doing. Because, in canon, Elizabeth never makes that claim. It is Jane who begs Elizabeth (when she reveals her engagement) not to marry without affection, rather than the reverse.

To me, the fact that Andrew Davies’ screenplay – and subsequently so many wonderful JAFF stories – have absorbed that notion, only goes to show how difficult we modern readers find it to objectively answer any question about Elizabeth’s intentions. We all want to impose our modern romantic wishes onto the story, (I am possibly the biggest culprit of this!) and in doing so have muddied the waters, so to speak.

However, while Elizabeth doesn’t explicitly declare a resolve to marry only for love, she makes some very definite noises to that effect. She disparages Charlotte heavily for her choice to marry Mr Collins merely to secure a comfortable situation – and laughs at her unromantic summation of courtship. She disdains her parent’s unequal marriage and she despairs of Lydia’s. Tellingly, she doesn’t seem particularly judgemental of Darcy’s supposed engagement to Anne de Bourgh. Whether this is a sign of her acceptance of marriages which were arranged to preserve family wealth, or simply that at that point the notion simply amuses her, is hard to guess. Either way, I think it safe to assume that Mr Bennet was right; she would not have been happy unless she respected her husband, at the very least.

Obviously I prefer to think that they were destined to be together from the very beginning of time and her saying yes when she did was a result of a galaxy-wide planetary alignment. 😉

Jessie, we are going to be great friends and I look forward to learning more from your ideas. I should have looked back at that chapter. Is my brain mixing Austen and Davies?? Ugh!!

I love this line of questioning… Why does she say yes and have JAFF and the numerous Austen adaptations added too much of a romantic nature to the intentions of many of the characters?

I always wondered after seeing Anne and how unappealing she was in her physical appearance and in her demeanor, that she was being spiteful in wishing to see Darcy eventually bound to her. Such a strange dynamic!

Mr. Bennet’s advice is so spot on… I think it’s one of the best lines in Austen’s stories. And I love your idea about Darcy and Elizabeth being destined for each other.

I read P&P for the first time nearly 20 years ago before I saw the 1995 adaptation and I was immediately in love with Darcy and Elizabeth. I still can’t fully explain why I love them so much, but I believe part of it is based on the development of their relationship, which must have resonated with me for its deep emotional connections between these characters.

Well said, Jessie. What time zone do you live in? I am looking at your comment about going off to bed.

I did now read the article and I am one of those romantics who looks for underlying feelings, thoughts of judging a person in denial as to true attraction. I read not to dissect an author’s deep thoughts and meanings so as for the romance. I love P&P b/c Darcy makes changes in his behaviors and attitudes towards others, even lowering himself to search for Wickham and Lydia and take care of that debacle. I guess reasoning oneself into love is just not in my field of vision. I always looks for a physical attraction and sometimes it is not always the wisest decision in one’s life.

I do see that Belinda is still available on Amazon so I will probably read that, also. And I have Evelina on my kindle so both seem as good follow-up.

I’m in the UK, Sheila. 🙂 Thanks for your comment on my story! I will respond soon, when I’ve worked through the others.

Now, as to an author’s intentions for his or her characters … Austen herself said to her sister, in one of her letters (and I stress I have copied this from google, not memory!) “I could no more write a romance than an epic poem. I could not sit seriously down to write a serious romance under any other motive than to save my life; and if it were indispensable for me to keep it up and never relax into laughing at myself or at other people, I am sure I should be hung before I had finished the first chapter.”

So she claims satire as her motive – but I think, if you’re going to write about people, if you’re going to laugh at human nature, you can’t really avoid talking about love. Austen pokes fun at the concept of love all the time in P&P, having various characters use the term ‘violently in love’ (or similar) flippantly before she, the narrator, attributes the phrase to Darcy at the end. Did she mean for us to laugh at Darcy too? I don’t think so. I think she set up a context in which different perceptions of love (practical, romantic, selfish … etc.) could be weighed up and assessed. And as such, I think she was more a romance writer than she liked to admit, just by dint of being a master observer of human nature.

Rather than making Elizabeth reason herself into love, it’s like Austen has satirised herself into a romance!

Great points, Jessie. I agree that she could not venture far into her writing without touching upon the very elements of love you describe here, as well as the love (or lack of) between various family members and how these lives also drive her plots too.

Not laugh at Darcy?? That’s a good question. We know Caroline says she can’t laugh at him (or tease him, I forget the exact words) and yet that’s what she attempts to do a various times in the story, but she can never deliver the kind of authentic jest that Elizabeth can, this making her appear once again as artificial and self-serving. Would we dare to laugh at him like Lizzy?

Jessie, I will have to bow to your more educated and complete understanding of Jane Austen. I am not a scholar, I am not an author. But I sure do love her P&P story. Take it as a rom-com or a satire but in the end for me it is a story about romance. Yes, we do snicker at the huge blunder Darcy makes with his proposal. And we shake out heads at Elizabeth turning down 2 proposals, knowing the Regency rules and expectations and worst of all the fact that Longbourn is entailed. I am saying all this in full respect of your comments. And I did read the entire article. The argument was very well set out and backed up.

Make me cry, make me sigh and make me laugh. And sometimes titillate my senses. And a full 5 stars for making me want to read it again.

I’ve finally found the time to sit and re-read these chapters and then the referenced article by Bander and all the comments.

I find myself reflecting on my own experience with dating and then falling in love. There’s one young man in particular (and now I can’t even remember his name!) who would be every girl’s dream. Great looking, well built, and he spoiled me, taking me to really nice restaurants. I liked him a lot and there was nothing wrong with him, but I never felt a close connection. As great-looking and as nice as he was, I just never felt overly attracted to him.

With Kurt, the guy I eventually married, I honestly didn’t feel an instant attraction to him when I first saw him. It was after we talked (and talked and talked and talked) for a couple of hours the night we met that I really found myself drawn to him, recognizing him as a potential soul mate, and I couldn’t wait for him to kiss me. (And now we’ve been happily married for 40 years!)

While Elizabeth may have noticed Darcy when she first saw him at the Meryton assembly, I don’t feel convinced that she was instantly attracted to him. It’s only as she learns who the real man is that he becomes so appealing to her. On the other hand, her personality, especially around her family and friends in Meryton, is more open and evident to a close observer like Darcy, so it’s reasonable that he would recognize her intellect and playfulness and fall in love without exposing himself. Bottom line here is that, based on my own experience, I agree with Bander.

When Elizabeth realizes that she does love him but isn’t sure she’ll ever see him again, she does have that moment where she recognizes that she will be able to forget him if she must. I do think she’s sincere and not lying to herself. She and Darcy have never been able to freely converse since her feelings turned toward him. How do you love someone that you’ve never really, REALLY talked to? The two have spent their entire relationship guessing about the other’s thoughts except at his first proposal, and there they insult each other grievously. During their time in Derbyshire they’re tiptoeing around each other, pleased not to be outright rejected but otherwise uncertain as to how the other feels. They’re just on the verge of breaking through the polite veneer when Elizabeth reads Jane’s letter and everything between them changes yet again. It’s even worse when Darcy accompanies Bingley back to Longbourn and Lizzy can barely get herself to look at him. Then she learns all that Darcy did to get Wickham to marry Lydia after he leaves Hertfordshire again. It’s not until Lady Catherine gives Darcy some clear evidence of Elizabeth’s feelings that he returns to Longbourn. THAT’S when the two have their first true heart-to-heart, at which time he proposes. Until then, they’ve never talked together with true understanding of the other.

Thank you, Debbie, for your thoughtful insights. You gave us lots of food for thought and you bring up points I have also personally experienced. I remember in high school disliking this arrogant senior in my art class and by the winter time, I was “head over heels” for him and we dated for two years. He was my first boyfriend and I can certainly understand what it’s like to like someone much better once we get to really know them.

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